


Friend to a Stranger

by noblydonedonnanoble



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/noblydonedonnanoble





	Friend to a Stranger

                “It’s been a while.”

                “That’s the biggest understatement I’ve heard in a decade.”

                David frowns. “That was intentional, wasn’t it?”

                “No, no, of course not.” She chuckles. “When do I do anything intentionally?”

                “Unless you’ve changed in the past ten years—“

                “Which I haven’t.”

                “Everything that comes out of your mouth has a double meaning of sorts.”

***

                He didn’t mean to fall out of touch with Catherine. Or at least, he’s fairly certain that he didn’t mean to. It was ten years ago, after all; it’s hard to recall precisely _what_ he meant to do. Life just got busy—that’s what he kept telling himself. _No time today, I suppose I’ll phone her tomorrow._ Every day, the same mantra, until there came a time when he felt too embarrassed. He didn’t want to know what she’d say, how she’d react to his long silence.

                If she wanted to chat, she’d call.

                She didn’t call, so clearly she didn’t want to chat.

***

                He asks her to lunch. He doesn’t expect her to agree, so when she smiles and nods, he’s not entirely sure how to react.

                In the end, he just asks her if she’s kept the same mobile number.

                A stupid question, because it leaves a bitter taste in the air just reminding them both that they knew each other.

                _Knew_ being the key word. Because that was a very, very long time ago.

***

                “How’s Erin?”

                “She’s doing well. At university now. She loves it. Of course I miss her like mad, but...” Catherine shrugs. “If she’s happy, I’m happy. And Olive?”

                A wide grin spreads across David’s face. “She’s lovely. The most perfect daughter I could ask for.”

                “I wonder if you’ll still be saying that in four or five years.”

                They both laugh.

                Joking about their children is easy. Both of them are parents, so they have that pre-prepared conversation topic. But once that’s covered, David starts fidgeting. She doesn’t like seeing him so uncomfortable, because never before has he been uncomfortable around her. Even when they first met, things weren’t this awkward.

                So she reverts to a topic about which she knows he will have something to say. “I saw the film you were in a few months back.”

                “Really?” He looks delighted.

                She wonders what he would think if she mentioned that she saw it on a date. Although it didn’t end all that well. She spent the whole two hours trying not to react to David’s face on the big screen. Afterward, she could recall nothing about the film that wasn’t a part of his subplot, and her date noticed.

                “I enjoyed it. I really did.” The bits that she could remember.

                “I’ve seen almost all of your West End plays,” he says after a moment. “One I missed because I was out of the country filming… But other than that, all of them. You were brilliant every time.”

                There were a few occasions when she performed on stage and thought she saw David in the audience. Now she wonders if perhaps it was actually him.

                On the other hand, over the years she’s seen him on the street and in shops and everywhere else she could imagine. So it was reasonable to assume that it was all in her head.

                Although it’s nice to know that perhaps it wasn’t _all_ in her head.

***

                Neither of them wants to be the one to bring up the fact that they fell out of touch. But he’s more of a coward, and she knows it.

                “What happened, David? Why did we just suddenly… stop?”

                He considers outs, considers potential topic changes and excuses to leave. But he asked her to lunch, knowing full well that it would come up eventually. “Life got in the way, I guess.”

                Catherine smirks. “Do you really believe that?” He stares blankly at her. “Okay, I’ve got an alternate theory for you—we couldn’t remember how to be _just friends_.”

                “That’s not…” he begins feebly.

                 “Why? Why is that not it? Explain.” When he says nothing, she makes a dramatic gesture with her hand and settles back in her seat. “Exactly.”

                “You’ve always been my best friend, Catherine,” he murmurs. “Not just my friend. My best mate.”

                “But when you can’t look at your best mate without thinking about mating…”

                David scoffs. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

                “Oh, get off, you would have too.” He neither confirms nor denies this. “But… I’m serious, David. And I’m not just talking about you. I…” She flushes red. “I thought about little else for weeks after Much Ado closed. I missed your voice, so I phoned you up, but then I wanted nothing more to see you which I knew wouldn’t be okay because if you came to my flat, I would want nothing more than to shag you.”

                Sitting across from him now, that same desperation is slowly rising to the surface. Not that she’s going to say so. She absolutely can’t say so.

                Except Catherine has never been very good about keeping her mouth shut.

***

                Regardless of their current lack of knowledge of one another’s personal affairs, in Catherine’s bedroom all instincts kick in, and their memories serve them well. She sucks on the spot just above his collarbone, sending sparks to every nerve in his body; his fingers navigate just as tantalizingly as ever, igniting Catherine to her very core.

***

                “Maybe you’re right,” he whispers. “Maybe we can’t remember how to be just friends.”

                “Perhaps we just need to try very hard.”

                “This was me trying very hard.”

                She swallows and scoots closer to David, burrowing her head between his shoulder and his neck. “Me too.”

                They stay silent for several minutes. It feels to them both like eons. “I’m sorry, Catherine. About starting this mess in the first place. I was absolutely plastered and running away from my problems and… you never deserved it.” His fingers go to her hair. He always used to run his fingers through her hair. “I wasn’t just using you to run away. I hope you know that.”

                “I know.” She thinks she knows.

***

                As she watches him shimmy into his pants, she wonders—it’s been forever since she’s had to wonder—what he’ll tell Georgia. She doesn’t ask, and he doesn’t bring it up.

                “Are you doing another play soon?”

                Catherine nods. “Yes. It should be brilliant. Any films lined up?”

                “One or two. Maybe I’ll see you at a premiere?”

                She makes no promises.

                Perhaps, she thinks, perhaps in another ten years. 


End file.
